information with the actual location. One whole part seemed particularly clear.
‘Hold things here,’ he ordered Corbec curtly and rolled back from the lip, gaining his feet in the steep bracken and hurrying down the slope they had advanced up.
He found the tower quickly enough, one of the jagged, mouldering stone formations, a little way down the slope. He pulled bracken away from the base and uncovered the top of an old, decaying shaft he hoped – knew – would be there. He crouched at the mouth and gazed down into the inky depths of the drop beneath.
Gaunt tapped his microbead to open the line, and then ordered up personnel to withdraw to his position: Mkoll, Baru, Larkin, Bragg, Rawne, Dorden, Domor, Caffran.
They assembled quickly, eyeing the black shaft suspiciously.
‘Our back door,’ Gaunt told them. ‘According to the old data, this sink leads down some way and then into the catacombs beneath the shrine structure. We’ll need ropes, pins, a hammer.’
‘Who’ll be going in there?’ Rawne asked curtly.
‘All of us… me first,’ Gaunt told him.
Gaunt beaded to Corbec and instructed him to marshal the main Tanith levies and sustain fire against the facade of the structure.
He stripped off his storm-coat and cloak, and slung his chainsword over his back. Mkoll had tapped plasteel rooter pins into the stonework at the top of the shaft and played a length of cable around them and down into the darkness.
Gaunt racked the slide of his bolt pistol and holstered it again. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, wrapping the cord around his waist and sliding into the hole.
Mkoll grabbed his arm to stop him as Trooper Vench hurried down the slope from the combat-ridge, calling out. Gaunt slid back out of the cavity and took the data-slate from Vench as he stumbled up to them.
‘Message from Sergeant Blane,’ Vench gasped. ‘There’s a Chimera coming up the low pass, sending signals that it desires to join with us.’
Gaunt frowned. It made no sense. He studied the slate’s transcript. ‘Sergeant Blane wants to know if he should let them through,’ Vench added. ‘They’re identifying themselves as a detail of tactical observers from the warmaster’s counsel. They use the code-name “Eagleshard”.’
Gaunt froze as if he had been shot. ‘Sacred Feth!’ he spat.
The men murmured and eyed each other. It was a pretty pass when the commissar used a Tanith oath.
‘Stay here,’ Gaunt told the insurgence party and unlashed the rope, heading downhill at the double. ‘Tell Rafflan to signal Blane!’ he yelled back at Vench. ‘Let them through!’
Six
THE CHIMERA, its hull armour matt-green and showing no other markings than the Imperial crest, rumbled up the slope from Blane’s picket and slewed sidelong on a shelf of hillside, chewing bracken under its treads. Gaunt scrambled down to meet it, warier than he had ever been in his life.
The side hatch opened with a metallic clunk and three troopers leapt out, lasguns held ready. They wore combat armour in the red and black liveries of the Imperial Crusade staff, elite bodyguard troops for the officer cadre. Reflective visor masks hid their faces. A taller, heftier figure in identical battle dress joined them and stood, hands on hips, surveying the scene as Gaunt approached.
The figure slid back his visor and then pulled the helmet off. Gaunt didn’t recognise him… until he factored in a few years, some added muscle and the shaven head.
‘Eagleshard,’ Gaunt said.
‘Eagleshard,’ responded the figure. ‘Ibram!’
Gaunt shook his old friend’s hand. ‘What do I call you?’
‘I’m Imperial Tactician Wheyland here, but my boys are trustworthy,’ the big man said, gesturing to the troopers, who now relaxed their spread. ‘You can call me by the name you know.’
‘Fereyd…’
‘So, Ibram… bring me up to speed.’
‘I can do better. I can take you to the prize.’
* * *
THE STONE CHIMNEY was deep and narrow. Gaunt half-climbed, half-rappelled down the flue, his toes and hands seeking purchase in the mouldering stonework. He tried to imagine what this place had been at the time of its construction: perhaps a city, a living place built into and around the cliff. This flue was probably the remains of an air-duct or ventilator, dropping down to Emperor-knew-what beneath.
Gaunt’s feet found the rock floor at the base, and he straightened up, loosening the ropes so that the others could join him. It smelled of sweaty damp down here, and the tunnel he was in was low and jagged.
‘Lasgun!’ came a call from above. The weapon dropped down the flue and Gaunt caught it neatly, immediately igniting the lamp-pack